


Romantic Firsts

by theharellan



Series: I Have Found a Home (Ian x Solas) [17]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Drabble, Drabble Collection, Other, mildly nsfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:01:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27799648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theharellan/pseuds/theharellan
Summary: It has been a long time since anyone has made Solas feel the way Ian makes him feel. Each next step is unfamiliar, and yet wholly welcome.“Ar lath ma, Vhenan.”He says the words as he knows them best, speaking the language of his heart to the one who holds it. Solas has felt them each morning for months, planted them in rows across Ian’s knuckles, but this is a world where words cannot be forsaken. If he does not speak them, they will not be heard.
Relationships: Lavellan/Solas (Dragon Age), NB!Lavellan/Solas, Nonbinary Lavellan/Solas
Series: I Have Found a Home (Ian x Solas) [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/873849
Comments: 1
Kudos: 1





	Romantic Firsts

> **[ROMANTIC FIRSTS](https://memesfortas.tumblr.com/post/631647865783091200/nxies-romantic-firsts)** for Solas and Ian. Suggestive. For [@theshirallen](https://tmblr.co/msCLJCW0myyhXnimJAFbMow).  
> 

**_MISS ME_**. _the first time solas missed ian_.

He shrinks against the walls of his cell, gazing out upon the outside with listless eyes framed by lashes laced with blighted red. Each morrow the darkness closes in, the sharp corners of his vision slowly eroded by the poison that grows within him. Dreams offer no respite, there are no soft places to land. No memories, no spirits nor demons, only a barren waste which echoes his worst fears back to him. Blood still drips from his arm where a lover’s fangs marked him, the memory of his teeth sunk into his flesh his sole company in a desert bereft of dreams. 

**_KISS ME_**. _the first time solas kissed ian._

The world is turning too fast for him. Haven’s ruins lie behind them, a column of smoke blots the dawn where it stood, and their saviour’s name rings with a holier sound upon the Inquisition’s lips. Solas rouses from a fitful sleep, no more rested than when he first drifted, head turning with thoughts of their mission and heart full with the thought of seeing Skyhold again. He strokes his thumb over his bottom lip, inviting the recollection of a kiss. It breaks like first light over the mountains, brighter than the smoke which hopes to stifle it. It burns, satisfying and terrifying, the culmination of a hundred stolen glances. Regret lives within him as surely as pride, haunting his every step, yet when he summons regret to that moment when their lips matched beneath a newly-mended sky, all it asks is why he did not return Ian’s kiss.

 _ **NEED ME**_. _the first time solas needed ian_.

He feels the Herald’s gaze upon him as he ascends the stairs, brown eyes burdened with concern. He dreads the sight of it reflected in Ian’s, to see the eyes which look upon him with shining affection instead pricked with tears. The door to their room swings open with a heavier arc, and they are upon him, already bright with emotion. “Solas--” Relief carries Ian to his side, reaching for his hand, but stopping short of taking it. “Tell me what you need.” He’s unsure if he answers, perhaps his own words fail him as he seeks haven in the crook of Ian’s neck. His cheek pillows against his head, scratching the freshly sprouted hairs that had grown in his week away. The hands which lift to hold him are the same which work spells through wounds with a steady method, yet they tremble against him, the pain of his absence felt in how they tug at his clothes. “I can do that.” 

**_LOVE ME_**. _the first time solas said “i love you” to ian_.

“ _Ar lath ma, Vhenan_.” He says the words as he knows them best, speaking the language of his heart to the one who holds it. Solas has felt them each morning for months, planted them in rows across Ian’s knuckles, but this is a world where words cannot be forsaken. If he does not speak them, they will not be heard. There was a comfort in that unspoken love, it left space for them to grow together, to flower like the garden where those first stumbling affectionate affirmations were shared. Now, leaving them unsaid is a lie he cannot live.  


_**WANT ME**_. _the first time solas wanted to have sex with ian_.

He folds himself to fit Ian’s shape, matching their hips together beneath the shelter of their sheets. The first chill wind of Frostfall which knocks upon the window cannot touch them so long as they lie together, his back to Ian’s front. Ian’s hands wander, first stroking simple patterns into his exposed skin before they sneak beneath the sheets. He walks his fingers down his chest to caress the most delicate parts of him, ghosting them over the hollow of his hips, tracing and retracing the shape of them in the dark. Most evenings it’s this quiet affection that carries him to easy dreams. Tonight, however, the trail burns lines of desire into his flesh. His hands never stray too far, forever conscious of where their boundaries lie, but tonight Solas longs to test them, to guide Ian’s hand to the waistline of his pants and below. Longing is all he allows himself, at least so long as his names begin and end with ‘Solas.’ Reluctant, he reaches out in the dark and halts the hand on its journey down his side, guiding it instead to his lips, then laid to rest over his heart.


End file.
